The Aftermath of Opening One's Heart
by melia
Summary: Your basic late night, PMS-induced, angst story about Rory and Jess.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls, or any of the people or places involved in their lives. I do, however, own the Switchfoot CD, which I guess, gives me 20 bucks worth of rights to the song Dare You to Move. Heehee.

Important (and lengthy) Author's Note: I began writing this late at night, after reading Heather Nicole's *amazing* story, In the Blue of the Morning. It made me cry, and I felt the need to write angsty prose. Well, it got darker than I was expecting it to, but I don't think it could have gone any other way. So, I apologize if it makes you sad or angry, or if it makes you hate Rory or Jess. Because, I really love those two, and I wouldn't want this to happen to them for real. The story took over, though, and I had to write it.

So, please review it. Flame me if you want to; I deserve what I get. Just, know that I'm not usually this angst filled in my writing. If you want to rid yourself of the awful literary aftertaste, may I suggest (shameless plug) my stories Thunder in Paradise, or The Baby Project? They're both *happy* fics, and they should erase any bitterness you harbour against me.

Anyway, you've been very patient with me, and I thank you. Feel free to email me your feedback, if you have too much to say in a review box, or if you really want to curse me out. I'm heybinder@hotmail.com. Thanks! Ok, and on with the story.

The Aftermath of Opening One's Heart

Rory sat on her bed in her blue bridesmaid dress, hands covering her face. Her stereo was on, and "Dare You to Move" was blaring. The music served two purposes: the song, on a continuous repeat, fit her mood; and its loudness provided a cover for the sobs echoing from her soul. Today she had touched love, and then run away. She had kissed perfection, and not allowed it to speak.

Jess.

Just thinking of his name was enough to send a spasm of anguish through her heart. He understood her in a way that no one else did. She had gone to his home to show him how important he was to her, and how much she loved him in spite of everything that had happened in Stars Hollow. He had shown her a piece of his life, and she loved him all the more for it. Whenever she needed to, Rory could picture Jess's silhouette outlined in the brightness of a spring morning, and for a while, that had been enough. But lately, she found herself aching for more. She wanted to see him; to be able to talk to him about Margaret Atwood's latest; to know that the coffee she was drinking had been poured by him. She wanted to inhale his scent- that soothing combination of Irish Springs and toothpaste and sandalwood and Jess. She wanted to know that he would be there, sitting on the bridge, waiting for her. But that wouldn't happen. Jess was in New York, and Rory was in Stars Hollow, and it was all for the best. She should concentrate on school and helping Sookie prepare for her wedding, and Dean. Especially Dean. Except, every time her boyfriend greeted her, she remembered how bored he had looked at the book sale, and how triumphant when he heard that Jess had gone back to New York. He hadn't even masked his emotions. The fact that Jess was out of Stars Hollow meant that Dean would now get all of Rory's attention. No more rebellious antics to contend with. No more fights. Just him and Rory. Except that, in Jess's absence, Rory thought about him twice as much. Every time Dean started talking about the new car he was making, or the new action flick he wanted to see, Rory found herself thinking about how she would read the detestable Hemingway for one boy, but couldn't get excited about the newest Matt Damon film for another. She would paste on an enthusiastic smile and act her part, but she felt fake. Only Dean's blind love kept him from realizing how distant his girlfriend was.

And now, all of that had changed. Her dream had come true, and Rory saw how desperately in trouble she was. The love of two boys would undo her. Looking up, Rory saw her reflection in the mirror. Eyes red and puffy, lips trembling. Her lips- those traitorous conveyors of emotion. The lips that had been blessed by their sweet tresspass; their forbidden offense. Her hand shook as she reached up to smooth her hair. As she patted her braids, she felt something foreign in her hand. She pulled back to look at it. The flower, which had been so white in her hair only a few hours earlier, was now turning brown and limp. A single tear rolled off Rory's cheek and fell into the folds of the dying petals. The symbolism wasn't lost on Rory. She knew what she had to do, and she knew that if she didn't do it now, she never would.

-----

Rory instinctively knew where to go. The way he had led her here on a chilly fall day told her that he came here often. She had a feeling that few people knew the significance of this place. She doubted that even she knew how important it was. And now… Rory hated to think what holiness would be defiled by her actions tonight.

As she walked up behind Jess, she was startled to see that his silhouette against the moon-bright water was nearly identical to the one of the New York morning. There was something new, though… an aura of something dark and mysterious that hadn't been there before. It didn't scare Rory; it only made her sad, because she knew that he knew…

"Jess."

He turned to see her. He didn't look surprised. "I was wondering when you'd get here." He turned back to look at the lake.

"Jess, I- I came to say I'm sorry." Rory's voice caught on a repressed sob. She forced it back, and continued with her planned speech. "I can't-."

"You can't what, Rory? You can't love me? Or you can't let down the cloyingly perfect people of this town?"

Rory was having a hard time keeping her inner torment from spilling over. "No, Jess, it's not that!"

He turned to look at her again, and his won pain showed in his eyes as he spat out his words. "Then what is it, Rory? Did you come here to soothe your own soul? Did you think that by hurting me, you'd get over your own pain?" His voice, usually so cool and sardonic, cracked with emotion as he continued. "Well, congratulations. You hurt me. I opened up to you. I haven't opened up to anyone in this godforsaken little town, because I knew that if you let yourself feel, you end up being hurt, usually by the people you love the most." Jess shook his head in bitter amazement. Rory saw, though the blur of tears in her eyes, that Jess's jaw tightened as he swallowed twice and blinked angrily, forcing his own tears back. He stood and looked at her with cold fire in his eyes. Their black fury would have frightened anyone but Rory. As it was, she gained a rare insight into Jess's life. This was not the first time that love had betrayed him, but Rory feared that it may be the last; that after this, Jess would shut down his heart and never open it again.

"Jess, don't do this."

"Don't do what?" In three strides, Jess was standing toe to toe with her. "Don't do what, Rory? This?" And with that he was holding her, crushing her, kissing her with angry passion until Rory's knees gave out and the only thing holding her up was Jess's grip around her waist. Rory was surprised to find that, in spite of her intentions to resist Jess, to fight against him, she was kissing him back with an intensity of emotion that scared her. As soon as this realization struck her, Rory found herself falling. Jess towered, panting for breath, over her.

"I won't be your fallback plan, Rory. It's me or him, and you know it. Based on what I've heard, I'd say you've made your choice. I hope you're happy." With this, Jess wheeled away and disappeared into the shadows.

Once again, Rory was alone. Once again, she covered her face, but this time there were no sobs. The pain she felt could not be expressed in any vocal manner. As she rocked back and forth on the bridge, she could feel her heart harden. When she had collected herself, she scrubbed her face with her hands. She was surprised to find that she still clutched the dying flower in her left hand. Her eyes became distant as she closed her fist, crushing the petals, before turning her hand over and letting the remains of the flower fall to the water beneath her. This done, she stood, and walked away into the night, resolving to never look back.


End file.
